


you hollow out my hungry eyes

by MalevolentReverie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anon Prompt, Ben is 26ish, Choking, Complete, Corruption, Dark, Dominant Kylo Ren, Drug Dealing, Dry Humping, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gaslighting, Light Bondage, Lots of Drugs, Naked Female Clothed Male, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV First Person, POV Rey (Star Wars), Physical Abuse, Power Imbalance, Recreational Drug Use, Rey is 16, Smut, Spanking, Underage Drinking, predatory behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-09-29 12:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20435708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie
Summary: Rey really wants a cool boyfriend. Unfortunately, she finds one.





	1. you are everything i want

**Author's Note:**

> this was an anon prompt!!! i loved it!!!

Sometimes I see him hanging around the 7-11 down the street.

He’s never without a cigarette, either between his lips or stashed behind his ear, and he’s always with another guy, or sometimes a pretty skinny girl. He hangs out there. He wears a lot of basketball shorts and sweatpants and sometimes he has his hair in a ponytail. _Sometimes _he doesn’t wear a shirt and I try not to stare when I walk inside to buy a piece of candy.

He’s usually laughing, too. I overhear him talking to his friends, catch the smell off weed, and it’s easy to tell why he laughs a lot.

His knuckles have faded tattoos—he has tattoos up the side of his neck and more down his forearms, some on his legs. The friends have them, too, but I’m drawn to stare at his, because I think I like his crooked features and the way he laughs until he almost falls over. It’s probably easy to be so happy when you’re high all the time, but I wouldn’t know.

One day I hear someone say his name: Ben. It finishes the puzzle for me. It’s not the name I assumed, but it fits, even if it dispels some of the mystery around who he is. Ben. He has tattoos and gets high outside a 7-11, and usually has his arm around girls much prettier than I am.

And it draws me in. I get a thrill every time I see him and wonder what he does when he goes home, and whether or not he notices me. It’s something I desperately want a taste of. I’m trying to save and I’m writing essays to apply to colleges—early, in the middle of summer vacation, because I want to be prepared for the coming year.

For my sixteenth birthday I didn’t even have a party. My three friends were busy, so I stayed home and watch Netflix until my foster dad came home and loudly slammed the front door. He forgot my birthday.

“Hey.”

I blink, turn. It’s a nice Friday afternoon but humid, so I’m wearing a tank and shorts that come down to my knees. Today I bought Gatorade as my excuse for walking down the street to catch a glimpse of Ben.

My heart pounds as he studies me with dark eyes. He takes a long drag from his cigarette and flicks the ashes on the ground. He’s alone today. Yesterday he got in an argument with a girl with pink hair, and he stormed off in the middle of it. He takes the bus. There’s a stop down the street a ways.

He raises his eyebrows, exhaling smoke through the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you bought more than one thing? So you don’t have to keep coming back to get more.”

I feel like he’s caught on to me staring at him. My cheeks get hot and he smiles and takes another drag while I try to get an excuse out.

“I get… I get my allowance… weird,” I say, stupidly.

“Oh. Allowance.” Ben drops his cigarette and sits on the edge of the building, hands grasping the concrete. His eyes roam down to my shorts. “Those are cute. My mom has the same pair, I think.”

“It’s—my foster dad—he goes to Walmart.” I swallow a lump and look down at my shorts with all the fury I can muster. “I know, they make me look like a Mormon.”

He bursts out laughing, leaning forward so far I think he’ll fall off on his face. But he leans back and presses his tongue inside his cheek and gives me a look I’ve never gotten from a boy before. It just makes me blush harder. Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I worry I might puke in front of him.

“Mormon. Yeah, I guess.” He puts his worn sneakers on the grill of the car parked in front of him, snickering, folding his arms over his knees. Basketball shorts today, sleeveless white shirt. “Mormon. You go to school up on the hill? You’re obviously not in college.”

I relax a little and move from the path to the door. My heart races—he’s talking to me, just chatting. He’s got to be in college.

“I’m a senior,” I lie. I scratch my neck. “Sorry, I’m a junior. Sorry.”

“Ooo, a lie from Shorts.” Ben gives me another weird look, leaning back, smirking and chewing his lower lip. “One of these days I’ll tell you what I do to girls who don’t tell the truth. But should go home and drink your Gatorade, kid. Gonna be ninety-five today.”

“My foster dad doesn’t care,” I blurt, and he smacks a pack of Marlboros on his palm. He raises his eyebrows as he takes out another cigarette. “I don’t even have to tell him where I’m going half the time. He doesn’t care.”

A woman walks past me. Another car pulls into the spot next to the car Ben has his feet on and he casts it a glance and a nod. I try not to look hurt that he ignored me, because he probably sees a lot of girls and ignores them. It’s part of dating someone like that, I figure.

But he looks back at me and lights the cigarette. It glows cherry red.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, kid,” he says. He smiles again and opens his hand for the guy from the new car to press a bag into it. “For when you come buy a Powerade. That’s your monkey’s paw for Saturdays, right?”

Oh my god—he’s been watching me too. Oh my god.

I nod and take a step back, then wave, and he keeps smirking at me as he waves back. His friend hops up next to him and leans in to whisper something in Ben’s ear, to which he laughs and nods and whispers back. It’s kind of cool to be talked about.

I think about it the entire rest of the day when I’m trying to write my essays, and I text my friends to tell them about it. They tell me to be careful, but I don’t think I want to be. I think if Ben asks me to get in his car, like to go to a cool party, I’ll get in and go.

But that won’t happen.


	2. 'cause you are everything i'm not

It takes all my willpower not to run down to the 7-11 early the next morning. I don’t want to look desperate or weird. Like a kid.

I pace the trailer I share with Unkar, chewing my nails and filing them so they don’t look crooked. He’s snoring in his bedroom and coming off a bender so he won’t say anything. I can leave before he gets on me about making dinner and stuff.

Around eleven I get too impatient and leave.

Rose doesn’t believe me about Ben, so I want to sneak a picture of him. She’s always home studying and never comes out, even for sleepovers, so it’s easier to just send a picture to show her.

It’s a nice walk down the block. The sun isn’t up all the way so it’s not boiling hot yet. I walk through dappled sunshine, under old trees, and smile at a few people walking their dogs. My heart pounds faster and faster the closer I get to the store.

Then I turn the corner—and he’s not there.

Sometimes he isn’t, but I feel like an idiot for showing up, like he’d actually want to see me. I teeter back a step, then a couple more, and run back home.

———

I’m so embarrassed that I avoid the store for three days. I write some essays and file them away, go for walks in the other direction, and text my friends about other stuff. I’m not going to cry about it or anything. He’s busy, obviously.

Rose says I can do better than some guy who hangs out at a corner store. She’s right. I could find someone straight-laced, like Poe Dameron, but I like seeing the other side of life. It’s thrilling and foreign, and maybe I can fit into it. I don’t think I fit in anywhere, really.

I go crawling back on day three, because I want a Gatorade. Kind of.

It’s overcast and rainy but Ben is there, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk with a cigarette between his lips. My heart skips a beat and I hang back near the corner, watching. He’s not smiling. He actually has a black eye and some scars up his arms.

I wander closer. He takes a long drag and ignores me. His dark eyes are distant and sad, looking at something that definitely isn’t me. Please look at me. Please look at me.

“Here for your Gatorade, Shorts?”

It’s raining, but I stop dead. I’m wearing capris today because he didn’t like the shorts, but I left my umbrella at home. Didn’t wear a bra. I don’t really need one if I don’t want it and then he can see my boobs better.

I shrug. “Just walking.”

“Yeah? Good day for a walk.” Ben peers up at the clouds and flicks ashes on the ground. He stands up and winces. “Careful who you make friends with, kid. They might stab you in the fucking ribs.”

“…What?”

He mouths his cigarette and lifts the hem of his T-shirt. There’s a big gauze pad with medical tape on his left rib, and I gape at it. Wow. _Wow. _Someone really stabbed him.

Ben lets his shirt down and shrugs. He puts out the cigarette and sticks it behind his ear, still not looking at me. Jeez. Why did somebody stab him?

“Fucking Lacey,” he snaps, reading my mind. “Her and fucking Hux. I’ll kick his ass when I see him again. Wish I could fucking deck her, too.” His gaze flickers to me, finally, and he huffs. “I don’t punch girls, though, even cunts like Lacey.”

“Why—why did they…?”

The door jangles open. I’m sick of getting drenched so I hide under the eave next to him, shivering, arms folded over my chest.

Ben talks, but he’s staring at my chest. “Stuff. Same reason everybody gets stabbed.”

“Oh. Sorry. I have… Band-Aids?”

He cracks a smile and laughs. I smile, happy to see him not so glum. He shakes his head and keeps his eyes on my boobs, and I adjust my arms to try to make them look bigger. Lacey’s are big. Were. Guess she won’t be coming around.

His eyes roam up to mine. “You have any friends around here? Parents?” The door opens again and he pauses before he keeps talking, eyeing the people ignoring us and walking away. “Anything like that?”

I don’t know what the right answer is, so I just tell him the truth.

“My friend Rose lives on the other side of town. I have two more but they’re from online. My foster dad doesn’t care where I go.”

“You shouldn’t make online friends, y’know. Could be serial killers.” Ben makes another obvious pass down my chest and raises his eyebrows. “Pedophiles.”

I scowl. “I’m not a kid. I can drive—and I’ve been writing essays for college.” I look away at the roof, shrugging. “I drink, too. So.”

He bursts out laughing again and I slap his arm like I slap Poe’s. He puts his hands up defensively and keeps laughing while I blush, knowing I’m caught in another lie. I’ve only ever had one beer and spit most of it out. Rose finished hers.

Ben wipes tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry. That’s just… total bullshit.”

“Whatever! I have other things to do instead of sitting around drinking!” I press my lips together, embarrassed and annoyed. “Poe invites me to parties, I just don’t go because I don’t have time.”

“Poe _Dameron_? I knew that douche when he was a little kid. His parents are friends with mine. He having parties and drinking and shit? Figured Shara would be all over that, but…” Ben shrugs and takes a pack of Newports from his back pocket.

We lapse into silence. I’m embarrassed by looking like such a kid and he’s smoking again, looking out across the parking lot at the street. His eyes are dark. Sad.

I curl my hair behind an ear and walk past him to go get my Gatorade. Might as well, since I’m already here. I’ll go home and polish off my essays. I’m not interesting enough for Ben—I don’t know people who get stabbed or have purple hair or smoke.

It sucks. I get a little teary while I pick my drink (purple, the only good one) but I pull it together when I go back outside. I sniffle and start into the rain, not bothering to look back and say bye to Ben.

He whistles. “Shorts. What’s your name, anyway?”

I scowl at him over my shoulder. He has an innocent look on his face, like it’s okay to _whistle _at someone.

“Rey.”

“Rey,” he echoes. He straightens up and nods toward the street. “Let’s go, Rey.”

“Excuse—what?”

Ben hunches his shoulders before he walks into the rain with me, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I stare up at him, knowing I shouldn’t go, but I can’t resist the temptation. He wants to hang out with me. _Me._

“You lied again,” he says. He leans a little closer, smiling. “Remember I told you I’d show you what I do to girls who lie? Now I’m gonna show you.”

My blood runs thicker. I can’t breathe. I stare up at him and his smile widens, eyes trailing down to my chest again. He jerks his head toward the road, walking off that way, and I teeter after him a step, then hesitate.

He jerks his head again, laughing. “What, you got somewhere else to be?”

No. I swallow and follow him with butterflies in my stomach, and figure it will be okay. He’s nice. He smiles a lot. Serial killers don’t smile.

Ben leads me to a red Mustang, maybe from the early nineties. He opens the passenger door and I awkwardly get in, a little excited to be sitting in a real Mustang. The faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol hangs, and a car freshener that’s not covering up the smells. The seats are faded black leather and it has a cassette player. Retro.

He sits on the other side and sticks his key in the ignition. The engine roars to life and he revs it a couple times, then leans across me to grab my seatbelt. I smell cologne under the scent of cigarettes and maybe alcohol. He’s warm.

He draws the belt over slowly, letting his fingers brush across my stomach. I hold my breath the entire time until he whispers in my ear—then I have to gulp.

“Buckle up for safety, Shorts.” He draws back into his seat and lights the cigarette behind his ear, grinning. “Wouldn’t want you flying through the windshield.”

Ben doesn’t put his seatbelt on. He rolls down the window and blows out a plume of smoke, then shifts the car into gear and peels away from the curb.

We’re driving faster then I ever have before. Ben shifts the car hard into gears and isn’t afraid to weave through other traffic. It’s exciting and terrifying and feels like my heart is up in my throat, but I close my eyes and smile. It’s pure adrenaline, and I want _more_.


	3. and it says, "you, oh, you are so cool."

We drive about twenty minutes to a block with rows of old apartment buildings, stuff from a hundred years ago with absentee landlords. Ben cuts the engine outside a blue building and pops gum in his mouth. He offers me a piece. I take it.

The sidewalk is cracked and people are hanging out on their porches. Ben nods to one as he follows me up the porch stairs to the faded front door of the blue house. My head pounds. He’s right behind me—I can smell his cologne and feel his body heat.

“You got what I asked for, dude?” Ben calls. Keys jangle and he reaches past me to unlock the door. He’s not even a foot behind me. Oh my god. “I’m good for it if you do.”

Another pale guy sitting on the other porch eyes me and nods. He’s bald and looks older than Ben and he’s not wearing a shirt. He should be.

I wave. He’s smoking a joint. Out in the open.

“Yeah, I got it,” he drawls. “What’s this?”

Ben lets the door creak open. He lightly slaps my butt and I practically jump inside, blushing and flustered. I glance back and see him watching me with a smug smile. He pockets his key and looks back at the other guy, giving a nod.

“A friend,” he says. “Be right back.”

“Why are all your friends teenage girls, dude?”

My spine prickles a little, but Ben laughs it off and it puts me at ease. Must be a joke.

We walk into a dark, musty foyer with mailboxes on the left hand side. Ben kicks the door shut and whistles as he checks one of the boxes, then slams it closed and jerks his head toward the stairs. I follow, arms crossed. Maybe I shouldn’t be here.

It smells like weed but that’s not too shocking. We go all the way up the rickety stairs to the top floor, with only one old door, and Ben turns the lock there too.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He shoves open the door with his shoulder and lets me in to his apartment. It smells better, like body spray and candles. “You want a beer or are you more a wine cooler girl?”

“Um… beer is okay. Is it okay if I drink?”

Ben glances at me and laughs. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. You can drink.” He laughs again and shakes his head. “I’ll be back in a sec. You can watch TV if you want.”

The living room is small, decorated with mismatching furniture and a well-worn green couch. I sit and wring my hands in my lap as Ben walks past me through a hall to the kitchen. Stuff clatters, the fridge opens and shuts, and he comes back with a can of Budweiser.

I smile a little. “Thanks.”

He smiles back, lopsided and charming, and my heart skips a beat.

I lean back when he leaves but don’t move to pick up the remote or anything. I’ll wait. I don’t want to be a bother.

A couple minutes pass. I check my phone and don’t open the beer. I should wait. It would be rude to start drinking when he isn’t around and I want him to see me trying to fit in. I don’t want him to think I’m some rude little girl who can’t wait.

The door suddenly opens. Ben’s back with something in his hand. He shuts and locks the door behind him and laughs when he looks at me. I squeeze the can.

“You’re just sitting here?” He takes my beer and cracks it open, then hands it back. “Relax. Want to smoke?”

“…Um. I don’t know—I don’t smoke cigarettes.”

“Yeah, I could tell that.” Ben casually drops the baggie on the table and I recoil from it like D.A.R.E. taught me. “It’s just weed.”

That’s even _worse_. That’s illegal, and I try to never go near the stuff. Unkar has some but I don’t even touch it. It’s bad, just like alcohol.

I squirm under Ben’s scrutiny. God, I don’t want to look like a loser, but I’ve never done it and I’m afraid I’ll get a random drug test for some reason. What if I go to jail? I can’t go to college if I go to jail.

He smiles. “Don’t worry about it, Shorts. You can do it some other time, right? Since you’ll come over again.”

Yes, I’ll come over here whenever he’ll let me. I nod quickly and take a sip of my beer, and Ben walks off to the kitchen. Okay, good. He’s so nice. He doesn’t think I’m a loser or anything.

He sits next to me and turns on the TV. He’s drinking harder liquor in a glass but it’s not a tumbler with ice, it’s just half full with dark liquid. I take small sips of my beer and watch the channels he scrolls through until he settles on _Cops_. That’s fine with me. It’s kind of funny when people think they’ll get away.

Ben settles back. He drapes an arm around my shoulders and pushes my upper arm to bring me closer in to his side. I don’t mind. I scoot over, skin tingling where his fingertips brush, stomach tightening. His knuckles tattoos are black.

“You going to college?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’ve been working on my essays. I mean, it’s not for two more years, but we started the application cycle in the middle of senior year.” I pause, eyes roaming the stuff hung on his green walls. “I want to go to a state school. It’s cheaper.”

“I bet you do, Shorts.” Ben smiles again and crosses his ankles on the coffee table. His legs are _long_. And strong, like a runner. “What’re you gonna study?”

“Um… well I want to be a pharmacist, maybe? I like math, so… and it’s not as much school.”

He snorts, almost spitting his drink on the floor, then he’s laughing again. I blush. Is he making fun of me?

“Y’know—” Ben raises his eyebrows and nods, pursing his lips. “I’m something of a pharmacist myself.”

“Did you go to school?”

That makes him laugh again. He takes a long drink from his glass, sets it down, and motions for me to follow him. I jump up and set my beer can down, too. Wonder where we’re going? I hope it’s not his bedroom. I mean, I’ve kissed people, but…

Ben leads me to a bathroom instead. It’s messy, sink covered with hair spray and toothpaste and cologne bottles. He’s got one of those thing in the toilet bowl to clean it and his shower curtain isn’t totally disgusting. I hang by the door, bare feet on cracked blue tile, and he opens a drawer.

It rattles. Pill bottles roll from the front to back, all with the stickers ripped off and most unlabeled. My eyes widen but Ben just gives me another cheeky grin and opens another drawer underneath. It’s full of empty bottles and some loose pills.

“It’s about ninety percent Vicodin and Adderall,” he says, shrugging. “High school and college kids have a real boner for amphetamines.”

I try to smile. I can’t. That’s a lot of illegal pills.

“Do you… take any?” I squeak.

“No, I’m not trying to get addicted to shit.” He shuts the drawer and opens the medicine cabinet with other things in it—powder, droppers. Then he closes it. “But that’s not really your bag, huh?”

I shrug, embarrassed. Maybe it should be.

He shuts off the light and herds me back into the hallway. I shove my hands in my pockets, catching a glimpse into his kitchen with worn linoleum floors and chipped yellow walls. It looks better than Unkar’s place, honestly.

“Yeah, kitchen’s down here,” Ben says. He herds me. It has kitchen stuff. “I have two bedrooms but one is honestly full of boxes and crap. And I do a lot of sorting there, but I don’t know how that’s gonna work with fucking Hux and Lacey gone.”

I blink up at him. “Sorting?”

“I get the stuff and package it, they distribute it. Y’know, economics.”

Oh—so he’s a drug dealer.

That’s _crazy_. Ben is a real drug dealer. He has all kinds of controlled substances and illegal drugs and sells them and it’s _illegal. _

I nod, trying to stay cool. “So you _are_ kind of a pharmacist.”

“Probably make more money than one, honestly.” He laughs and opens a door across the hall from the bathroom. “Cheap to live here and bank it.”

It’s dark inside. Ben flips on the light and I figure out pretty quick that it’s his bedroom, with dark carpet and white washed walls and a big bed in the middle. The blue sheets are all a mess and I see a hamper half full of clothes next to a wooden desk. It’s a little bit of a disaster. There’s clothes everywhere.

He has a tank with a red light that I wander over to investigate. A big lizard is sitting out sunning himself and gives me side-eye but doesn’t run off and hide. It looks like a bearded dragon. Cool; I love reptiles. I’ve always wanted a really big snake.

The window is open but there’s an air conditioner, and it’s doing a good job keeping the room cool. I look around at the posters on the walls and the open closet door and on the dresser I see some scattered weed and a bong. Some rolling papers are sitting out, too, like it’s not totally illegal.

The door shuts. I turn and see he’s back with our drinks, smiling, and he hands me mine. His shoulders look broader in the smaller room.

I sip. “Your tattoos are cool.”

“Thanks. Got the knuckle ones in prison—don’t worry, it was just this fight thing.” Ben finishes his drink and rolls his eyes. “And another fight, some drug stuff. I got caught like once, with fucking weed of all things. Like I’m loaded to the teeth with Vicodin and coke but sure, take the two grams of weed.”

The adrenaline rush comes back. Fights. Prison. What hasn’t he done? I just want to unravel the rest of him.

He turns on the TV at the foot of the bed and snaps and motions for me to sit. I sit. I drink my beer a little faster as he leaves to get another drink. I’ve got to keep up with him, right? It’ll be more fun.

The bed is really big, maybe king size, and really comfortable. I sit up, using pillows against the headboard, and settle in to watch _South Park. _I love this show; it’s so insane half the time. He has a poster on the inside of his closet door.

Ben comes back with a half full bottle of Jack. The glass is gone. He just tips it back and drinks and I can’t help but stare, because he’s drinking it like water. I’ve never been able to stomach hard liquor. How does he do it? It doesn’t look like he drinks a lot.

He shuts the door again and turns on the A/C. “Is it cool if I smoke? Your dad gonna smell it?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, he smokes it. He won’t notice, anyway. It’s okay; you can do it, I don’t care.”

“Cool, cool.” He paces over to the dresser, casually pulling off his shirt along the way. “You’re a foster kid, huh? Most foster kids I know go south.”

They do, I guess. I’ve never wanted to be like my foster dad so I do everything I can not to be. But sometimes I want a taste of the other side, and Ben seems nice and relaxed. I feel pretty safe.

“I want to be happy,” I say. Sounds dumb. “I mean, I just want to be comfortable, I guess? Like not have to count pennies to go out for dinner.”

Ben looks at me over his shoulder. He’s rolling a joint I think. He smiles and shrugs.

“I get it.”

I knew he would. I smile back and take another drink of my beer, and realize it’s just about empty. Before I can ask for another one he’s handing me the bottle of Jack, and I look up and see he’s smoking.

He nods, shaking the bottle and exhales toward the window. “Try it.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to get sick.”

“You don’t have to chug it. Baby sips, Shorts.” Ben pushes it in my lap and squeezes my knee. “Don’t worry. I don’t have herpes.”

I make a face and he laughs again. Ugh, what if he _does _have herpes? Germs are so gross and I don’t want to have that crap forever.

Ben sighs and climbs over me, rolling over on the other side of the bed. He takes out his phone and scrolls around, then scoots closer to show me some health app. It has blood test results from a couple months ago—and the Quest lab in town.

“See?” He scrolls down. “I’ve got good cholesterol too, and no HIV or anything.” He leans back, taking another hit and grimacing. “I’d always wrap it with Lacey, thank fuck. She was probably crawling with the clap. And she always talked about kids? I keep the condoms away; thought she was poking holes.”

“Poking holes?”

Ben glances at me, eyebrows raised, incredulous. I feel dumb so I sip the Jack.

“Girls poke the wrapper with a push pin so it leaks? Never heard of it?”

“…No. Why would anyone do that?”

His smile widens. He takes a long hit and holds it for a second, eyes roaming to the television. It comes back out in those cool circles like donuts.

“Well I know _you _don’t wanna get knocked up, Rey,” Ben says after a minute. He looks at me, eyes lidded, wandering down my body across my legs. “That’d make it hard to get through college, huh?”

I’m suddenly hyper aware of where I am: alone in his bedroom, drinking, sitting in a bed. He’s not sitting up straight like I am but he’s got long muscular arms covered in tattoos that go up to his neck, and a broad chest, and the weirdest thought comes over me. Maybe I _do_. Maybe it might be kind of hot.

A blush burns up to my ears and I look away. “No, not really. I mean—I mean I don’t want to be pregnant. Not really. I’m sixteen, so…”

“Oh, I know.” Ben keeps staring at me, smiling faintly, and my blush burns hotter. “I know.”

We watch TV for a while and I get a little buzzed. Ben brings me home when it’s dark and I feel like I missed an opportunity. Maybe it’s too late now.

He yawns a lot and sloppily shifts the Mustang. I tap my fingers and steal glances and try to work up the courage to kiss him. I didn’t even have the courage to say hello to him. Fuck.

The gravel road back to the trailer is even bumpier in the Mustang. Ben doesn’t seem to care. He blinks hard and shakes his head like he’s trying to stay awake, and I realize too late that he’s probably drunk or high or maybe both.

“Nice place,” he drawls.

“It’s not.” I laugh a little and shrug. “But I can move out when I’m eighteen. I think I’ll live on campus.”

“You can live with me.”

I keep laughing but he parks outside the trailer and gives me a weird, serious look. Okay. I barely know him. He must be _really _high.

“You should be careful driving home.”

“Nah. I’m fine.” Ben chews his gum and shrugs. “You can. I’ve got extra room.”

He shifts and leans across the console, grabbing my jaw in his long fingers, almost to my throat. He tugs and kisses me on the lips for a nerve-wracking minute and I just freeze there like an idiot. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do—do I use my tongue?

Ben tugs again, breaking our kiss. He holds me like that and I stare into his dark eyes and my head spins and I feel a little nauseous. Not bad nauseous. Excited, adrenaline nauseous. He just _kissed _me and he’s older and so much better than any other guy my age and so experienced and—

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs. He squeezes my jaw and my ears ring. “But no boys.”

I nod, hypnotized. He kisses me again and lets go and motions for me to get out.

I scramble out and almost fall on my face. Ben waves and throws the car in reverse, then peels off down the gravel. The sound of the engine dies away.

My heart races. I laugh a little and rush inside, past Unkar asleep on the couch. I go straight to my bedroom and scream into a pillow, and just roll around hugging it. I can’t wait to go back. This is the happiest I think I’ve ever felt.


	4. you start shaking at the thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes bitchhhhh

“Oh my god, is he cute?!”

Rose is just as excited as I am, and I expected her to lecture me. We’re at the library picking out books, our usual hangout during the long summer days, and she’s trying not to raise her whisper to a shriek.

I nod fast and we both giggle and she hugs me. Someone glances at us from further down the bookshelves and rolls his eyes. Old guy. Probably lives alone with his cats or something.

Rose is relentless and I love it. She’s living vicariously through me and I’m not used to someone being jealous of my life.

“Was he a good kisser?” she asks, covering her mouth. She waves her hands and laughs. “Okay don’t tell me yet, since it was only once. But he’s good, right? How many tattoos does he have?”

“Like, a whole bunch.” I point to my knuckles. “A lot here, and one on his neck, and his back, and his forearm. It’s so cool—and he did the ones on his knuckles in freaking _prison._”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Rose slaps my arm and covers her mouth with both hands. We’re getting too loud. “Rey! Oh my _god_!”

Someone clears their throat. We look up and see the librarian, a young guy with glasses, and he doesn’t seem super happy to tell us to shut up.

“Girls,” he says. “Please keep your voices down.”

We’re only in here because it’s hot as hell outside. But we apologize and brave the humidity so we can properly shriek and squeal.

The humidity hits like a ton of bricks. Rose loops her arm through mine and pulls me along toward the park, all ringed with big maple trees that help keep out the sun. It’s perfect, but sticky.

She hops over cracks in her Converse. “Okay, so you have a badass boyfriend. You just went out and got it.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. I mean, not yet. I don’t want to pressure him or anything, you know? Guys don’t like when you pressure them.”

Rose nods, frowning. “You’re right. I read that in my mom’s Cosmo last week—don’t pressure men to make a commitment. Especially because he’s young and has so much going on. Do you think he can like… give us something?”

I’m really curious about it—trying drugs. My heart pounds at the thought of defying the rules and feeling what it’s like to be high or drunk or on a trip. It’s got to be _crazy_. I’ve read having sex while you’re high is really fun, and men can’t keep it up when they’re drunk. But I’m not going to have sex yet.

Maybe. I mean, if he asks or things get heated, I’m probably not going to say no.

I shrug. “Maybe. Let me have a couple weeks so he doesn’t think I’m a tattle tale or a narc. He needs to know we’re mature enough to handle it.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.” Rose beams and tugs me closer, squealing again. “You’re so badass, Rey. You have to tell me _everything_. I can’t believe you have a casual thing with a guy who went to jail and sells—” She hesitates and looks around, lowering her voice. “Sells drugs. That’s so crazy.”

We keep going on for a couple hours about Ben, from him being stabbed last week to his multiple times in jail. It’s addicting. Rose is even more excited than me and I like the feeling of being grown up and biting off more than I can chew.

I can help him, too. He can visit me at college and sleep over and we can have sex while my roommate is gone. He’ll like the atmosphere and go. I bet he’s really smart and just needs motivation. He has a degree already—maybe he can get another one.

But I have a casual thing, and that’s really cool. Casual. Just casual and not a big deal.

I mean, I want to date him, but I don’t think he’s going to feel the same way. He probably sees a lot of girls, even if the thought of that makes me nauseous.

I’m not sleeping with him until we’re exclusive, that’s for sure.

I won’t. Definitely not.

Rose’s mom comes to pick her up from the park in her black Suburban. I wave and she smiles and waves back and offers to bring me to their house for dinner. I say no. I want to go see if Ben is at the 7-11.

It’s a half hour walk there. I’m kind of sweaty when I arrive but the exercise is good, I figure.

The corner is empty. I’m disappointed but shrug it off because I can’t expect him to be there every day. He hasn’t texted me but I read that’s not a big deal and sometimes people do that. No big deal for me. I have other stuff to do.

I go home. I sit and edit my essays for a couple minutes until I can’t find any more mistakes. I spin around in my computer chair and wait for Unkar to come home but he never does.

I lay in bed and stare at the cracked ceiling, phone in my hand. Every couple minutes I check it, hoping I gave him the right number. Then I promise not to check it but can’t resist.

Nothing. I have his number but I should wait. It’s only been a couple days since we hung out.

“Relax,” I mutter. “No pressure. Totally casual.”

• • •

A week goes by. Radio silence.

I try not to visit the 7-11 every day but still do every _other _day, and it crushes me every time I don’t see him outside. I’m low on cash so I just look around the corner and leave when I don’t see him. I’m _trying _to be cool and give him space but it’s like having a drug taken away from me.

I’m in withdrawal, I think. It sucks.

A week drifts into two weeks. I’m depressed. I lie and tell Rose he’s on vacation so she doesn’t think he ditched me. I’m tired of being a loser.

One night Unkar isn’t home—he’s working an overnight—so I raid the fridge for beer. He won’t care as long as I pay him back, so I grab three cans and take them to my bedroom to get drunk alone. My lower lip quivers and I cry when I shut the door.

Fine. I don’t care if Ben never speaks to me again. He’s a fucking jerk.

Beer tastes awful but I still manage to down three within two hours. I’m drunk. It’s not as exciting as I thought it would be and I mostly stumble around trying to pee or get more beer. I text Rose and tell her I’m drunk and she asks me why and with who.

By myself, because I do everything by myself.

I’m gearing up to call Ben and call him a fucking jerk and tell him off. I pick up my phone and drop it and try writing out what I want to say, but the paper swims and I can’t make my eyes focus. I’m irritated and thirsty and wander out to the living room to cry on the couch. Boys fucking—

My phone rings.

I scramble to my bedroom, tripping over myself to get it. It’s _him_. Holy shit. Did he sense me thinking about him? Holy shit.

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and sniffle. “Hold yourself together, Rey. Be cool.”

I clear my throat and answer with a weak and maybe pathetic ‘hello?’. It’s obvious I was just crying.

Ben yawns. “Hey, babe. What’re you up to?”

It’s midnight. I’m usually dead asleep. I should’ve let the call go to voicemail and ignored _him _for two weeks.

It’s midnight. I’m usually dead asleep. I should’ve let the call go to voicemail and ignored _him _for two weeks. An eye for an eye.

“Nothin‘,” I mumble, trying to hide how drunk I am. I clench my jaw and pace my room. “What ‘bout you?”

“Nothin’.” He laughs a little. I hear his TV. “Are you _drunk_?”

Mother—

“No!” I snap. “‘M fine.” I sit hard on the edge of my bed and flop back, chewing my lower lip. “I’m with my friend… Jake.”

Ben’s quiet for a long minute. His television keeps playing and I’m relieved not to hear anyone else. I’ll make him jealous. He’s a fucking jerk.

He clicks his tongue. “Yeah?”

“_Yeah._”

Then he falls silent again. My heart pounds and I try not to blurt that I’m totally lying.

“What’s his last name?”

Shit. “…Blake.”

Fuck—what the fuck, Rey?

“His name is… Jake Blake?” Ben clarifies. He takes a long breath. Must be smoking.

“Did I stutter?”

He bursts out laughing at that. I’m not happy drunk at all and don’t laugh along with him.

I sit up, rubbing my forehead. “I’m at a party. So… I forget his last name.”

“Oh. I see. Awful quiet party.”

“I’m in a closet.” I pause. “He just left. We were making out and stuff.”

“_Oh_. You and Jake Blake.”

“Yeah, me and Jake _Blake. _I forget his last name. I kissed like… twenty guys. Or thirty. I forget. I forget your name. Who are you again?”

Ben coughs, concealing more laughing. Barely. I scowl and pace, swaying and bumping into furniture but too nervous to stop. I’m doing fine. It’s a good lie.

He clears his throat. “Well I don’t want to get between you and Jake Blake. Say hi to him for me.”

“Fine. Bye.”

I hang up first and toss my phone on the couch.

It’s kind of satisfying. I’m happy I annoyed him for once and now he has to sit and worry about what I’m doing. He thinks I’m making out with someone else and at a party, _and _thinks I don’t remember his name. Totally casual. No big deal.

I sit on the couch and watch _The Big Bang Theory _for a while. My eyes flutter shut but I keep myself awake by drinking cold water. I’m six beers deep and it’s making me nauseous. I want to drink even more and go outside to stumble around and cause trouble.

About half an hour after hanging up with Ben, I hear the doorbell ring.

Oof. I haul myself off the couch and stumble through the dark trailer to the front door. Mumbling, I manage to pull it open without bothering to check the peep hole. Unkar must be home early.

Ben is there, cigarette between his lips, a hand on either side of the doorframe. He smiles at my shocked look and slowly straightens, fingers going to his cigarette so he can exhale into the balmy darkness. He stares at me and raises his eyebrows. Shit.

“Cool party, Shorts.” Ben drops the cigarette and puts it out with his boot as he grasps the top of the doorway on his way into my house. He blocks it completely. “Where’s Jake Blake?”

“It—everyone just left!”

“Oh man. I _really _wanted to meet Jake Blake.”

I take a couple quick steps back as Ben comes in and shuts the door behind him. The trailer is spotless because I spent half the week cleaning to keep myself occupied, but the beer cans are stacked on the coffee table. It’s super obvious I’ve been drinking alone.

He leans on the door and turns the handle lock behind his back. He’s smiling and it makes my pulse race. I’m hoping he’s going to punish me. I don’t know why—it’s kind of demented.

“You’re pretty wasted, huh?” he asks. “Just drinking cheap beer alone in your house?”

“N-No.” I wring my hands. “There were people here. I… I have lots of friends over all the time.”

“Do you?”

Ben reaches in his front pocket for a pack of gum, training an unreadable expression on me. He pops a piece in his mouth and gestures for me to talk.

I swallow a lump. “Yeah. Lots of friends. They all went home because they have stuff to do. We drank all the alcohol except the beer, so…”

“Huh. You got any of the bottles?”

Son of a bitch. I shake my head and lean on the back of the couch as Ben saunters toward me, shaking his head along with me, raising his eyebrows and smiling. It’s not really friendly. It’s hungry and tense and I’ve never seen it before.

“Does Jake Blake take them home for recycling after a fun quiet party?”

“Yes—he does. He does.” Ben keeps coming and my breath catches. I struggle to keep up the lie he’s obviously not believing. “He calls all the time.”

Ben nods like he’s agreeing, furrowing his eyebrows. He eases closer, grasping the back of the couch on either side of me and dipping his lips to my ear. He smells like cigarettes and Axe and gum.

“Your foster dad home?” he murmurs.

“No. Why?”

“When’s he come home?”

“Well he’s working eleven to seven—”

I’m shoved back as Ben kisses me hard on the lips, drawing up and pushing his big body against mine. He grabs my face in both hands his tongue is in my mouth and I huff, struggling to keep up. I fumble for the front of his shirt and curl my toes.

Oh my god—he’s kissing me again, and we’re alone and ten feet from my bedroom. I twist his shirt in my fists and lean on my tiptoes to meet his kisses, but it’s hard because he’s so aggressive. It makes my head spin and burn and the heat goes straight down between my legs.

One hand drops away and Ben takes my jaw in the other, yanking back to break our kiss. His lips are red and shiny and swollen and I roll mine to clean his spit off. I hesitantly meet his dark eyes.

“I told you I’d show you what I do to girls who lie,” he says. He pulls me closer, eyeing my mouth. “Go lay down on your bed and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

I nod quickly. He kisses me again before he lets go, boots loud on the floor. He’s still not in a hurry. He swings his keys around his index finger as he unlocks the door and tugs it open.

I’m somewhere between excited and terrified. I scramble to my bedroom, pawing along the wall to keep upright. I should text Rose but my phone is out on the couch and I want to make sure I’m in my room before he gets back. I don’t want him to go.

I try to hide the embarrassing stuff before he gets back, like my stuffed animals and the trinkets on my desk, but I don’t have enough time. I’m busy finding somewhere to hide my laptop when he whistles.

Ben’s boots are still on and he has a roll of duct tape around his wrist. He pushes the door shut with his foot and drops his keys on my dresser, smiling. He starts toward me and I freeze.

“Cute bed.” He keeps coming and I back up until I fall over the edge of the bed, flopping over. “I told you to lay down on it, didn’t I?”

“Sorry,” I slur. “Sorry—Sorry.”

He sighs, pulling a big strip of duct tape out and ripping it with his teeth. Oh my god.

“Girls who lie aren’t allowed to talk.” Ben tosses the duct tape roll on my bed and presses the strip over my mouth. He seizes my jaw in one big hand again, pulling me forward to look up at him. “Or move.”

I tremble with excitement. Holy shit.

I’m told to put my wrists together behind my back so I do, and Ben leans over me to wrap them in duct tape. It’s not tight but I definitely can’t move, and I have a hard time sitting up at all. I swallow and watch him take a bandana from his front pocket.

He wraps it around my head, covering my eyes. I can’t see or speak and I fucking love it.

Ben sits next to me. My bed creaks as he roughly grabs my hair at the back of my head and drags me over his lap. He pushes a hand into my lower back and shifts around for a second—then I feel him push something soft in my folded arms.

“You look like a stuffed bunny kind of girl,” he whispers. His fingers hook over the hem of my pajama pants and he pulls them down to my knees with a couple hard yanks. “Your panties have the wrong day of the week, Rey.”

He slaps the back of my thigh, not quite my butt. My eyes pop wide open and I squirm, puffing into the tape. It’s bare skin and skin and it hurts.

Ben braces his forearm across the back of my neck to keep me pinned. He rubs the spot he just slapped and slaps higher, this time hitting my butt, and I squeak. Pain lances down my legs and straight up my spine but settles somewhere in my lower belly.

“It’s not Friday, Rey.” His palm comes down again and I jerk forward. “Did Jake Blake tell you it’s not Friday?”

I shake my head. Ben squeezes my ass and hits me sharply again.

“Jake Blake doesn’t exist, does he?”

I hesitate, and he hits me, so I quickly shake my head.

“You were trying to make me jealous—weren’t you?”

I’m drunk and tired but manage to nod. Ben sighs and spanks me again, and I vaguely realize I’m being _spanked_. It’s so weird and hot.

His hand wanders up from my shoulder to grab my hair, tugging to arch my neck and my back. It hurts. I whimper and limply kick my feet but he doesn’t care.

“Just laying here getting drunk and trying to make me jealous.” Ben gives my ass another rough squeeze and slaps harder than before; hard enough for me to gasp. It stings. “Well I’ll be clear _right now_: you’re not fucking allowed to see anyone else.” He pulls my hair and I wriggle in pain. “Got it?”

I’ve never nodded so fast. I’m dizzy when I slow and he lets my head rest on his thigh again. I’m woozy and tired and ready to go to sleep, but Ben spanks me again. There’s a sore spot where he keeps slapping and it gets more and more sensitive each time.

“You’re not allowed to get fucked up without me—” Another strike. I groan. “And you better wear panties with the right day of the fucking week on them.”

He keeps going, getting harder like he’s getting mad. Tears well up in my eyes but I don’t whine or complain because I figure I deserve it.

It stops. Ben massages my lower back and roughly tugs my panties down just over my ass. I’m nervous and turned on and hope he’s going to give me more than that. Sometimes when he spanks me I rub just the right way on his thigh and it feels _good. _

“Look how much you liked that,” he whispers. His rough bare hand grazes down my thigh and I shiver. “You’re going to play with yourself in these panties and give them to me—and I’ll give them back every Friday.”

That makes my cheeks burn. It’s nerve-wracking. It’s weird to hear him mention masturbating.

He draws my panties back up and pushes me on my back in all my stuffed animals. I can’t see a thing but I feel something soft shoved down the front of my underwear. Ben turns me on my stomach again and I kind of rub against it in the process.

He pushes up and forward on my butt to roll my hips. This time it _definitely _feels good and I’m so drunk and horny that I start humping whatever it is on my own.

Ben tickles my foot and the bed creaks. “I’m goin’ out for a smoke. Don’t stop and _don’t _fucking come until I get back.” He digs his fingers into the sore cheek and I shudder, but don’t stop. “Got it?”

I nod, panting into the tape and trying to breathe in my mess of stuffed animals. He draws his nails down the back of my thigh before his boots clomp away, out of my bedroom, and the door shuts again.

I’ve never really touched myself but what I’m doing isn’t hard. It’s _weird_—I feel weird—but my head is hot and I’m too turned on to care. I swallow and whimper, rolling my hips over and over again, waiting for Ben to come back. The tension grows.

It doesn’t take long for me to reach a ledge; it feels like I’ll fall off, so I slow down, quivering and resisting. He told me not to finish and I’m not sure if it’s going to make him mad. My hips twitch forward even though I try not to move at all, and my breaths get faster. He’s taking a long time.

The door finally opens. I take it as permission to come and hump against what I _think _is a stuffed animal, but Ben suddenly drags me over on my back.

There’s no pressure—nothing to make it push back against me. I dig my heels into the mattress and can’t help a couple desperate small thrusts, whimpering. I’m right on the edge of it. I’m almost there.

He yawns. “I’m kinda tired. You kinda tired? Maybe we can take a nap. Get some tacos.” A big warm palm settles on my knee, thumb rubbing gently. “It’s only like two in the morning if you wanna go out.”

Holy _shit_. I shake my head wildly and keep writhing on my bed, absolutely desperate to keep going.

“Well, alright. Guess we can go to bed.”

My bedroom door locks. Ben whistles and I hear him untie his shoes, then a belt hissing. My heart races as he ties in around my ankles and I’m literally hogtied and can’t move an inch. It’s a good thing I’m not nauseous or I’d choke on my puke.

He tugs back the comforter and crawls over me to wedge himself against the wall. Some stuffed animals hit the wall across my bedroom.

“You’ve got a fucking army of these things,” he mutters. “Could bring back Toys ‘R Us from fuckin’ bankruptcy.”

His warm breath tickles my temple and he shifts closer, pressing his hand on the stuffed animal in my underwear. “I pride myself on being a gentleman, so there’s a garbage can next to the bed and I’ll take the tape off after you come. So you don’t die. You’re welcome.”

The moment there’s pressure I shamelessly go back to rubbing against the thing, struggling because I can’t angle it the way I want. Ben yawns and wraps an arm under my pillow, gently helping roll the stuffed animal in time with my hips. It’s pretty fucked up.

He’s quiet for a bit. I’m panting and thrusting so hard the bed is back to rattling and I’m glad Unkar isn’t home. Yuck.

Ben nuzzles my hair. “You ever done this before?” I shake my head and he groans, kind of leading into a laugh. “No? That’s a big mix of sad and hot. I can’t use my fingers until it’s not a felony—but you want me to, don’t you?”

I’m getting close again. I nod, twisting my hands behind my back. Yes. Yes.

He kisses my head and holds the stuffed animal still for me. I wouldn’t mind him rolling over on top of me and having sex with me, either. Drunk or not.

“You like being taken advantage of?” he asks softly. “Ordered around? You like letting older men molest you?”

I’m nodding and straining because maybe I do and maybe I’m crazy. Ben growls and playfully nips the shell of my ear, pressing his chest closer.

“Couldn’t wait to get my hands on that sweet little teenage ass. Looks so good in those stupid fucking shorts.” His voice drops, rough, deep. “I’ll molest you whenever I fucking want to—in your bed, in my car, in a fucking fitting room—and you’ll shut up and take it like you are right now.”

The heat spreads and suddenly it’s happening. My breath hitches and I feel muscle contractions and long waves of pleasure that totally take over my head for a couple seconds. It’s hard to describe the sensation other than _amazing _and _blissful_.

I keep rubbing off against the stuffed animal until the sensation drops off, quickly returning me back to baseline. I’m sensitive and trembling and moan into the duct tape, stretching my legs. I couldn’t spread them like I wanted to. Fuck.

Ben unceremoniously rips the tape of my mouth. It’s a huge relief to take deep, long breaths, and I feel my chest rising and falling fast. Jesus. _Jesus. _

He yawns and throws an arm over my stomach. Nothing else comes off and he doesn’t move the stuffed animal, just kisses my temple and settles in next to me. I’m breathless. God that felt good.

I swallow hard, mouth dry. “I can… I can do that more than once?”

Ben snorts and laughs. What? I don’t sit and Google this stuff. It’s weird.

“Uh… it’s in my best interest to lie, but yeah, you can.” He keeps laughing and hugs me closer to his side. “Son of a bitch, Rey.”

“What?! I was just asking!”

“Yeah. Roll over so I can switch your hands up front or it’s gonna hurt like a bitch in a few hours.”

It’s hard but I manage to do it. Ben whistles while he binds my wrists in front of me instead, and I’m close enough to the edge of the bed that I can just roll over if I need to puke. I feel okay right now.

He drags me to his side, my back to his chest, and I feel the bare skin of his legs on mine. I’m drowsy and coming down from the alcohol and can’t believe what’s happened. I have so much to tell Rose. So much.

Ben pats my belly. “Night. Sorry you had your first orgasm in duct tape. And at sixteen.”

“…Okay.”

He’s quiet for a minute. Then he huffs and props up a little on his arm.

“Seriously—you’re not just trying to be cute, right? You’ve literally _never _come. Ever.”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Jesus. I was already fucking girls when I was younger than you.” He slides back down and readjusts his arm around me. “I humped anything with a pulse. I _still _hump anything with a pulse.”

“Okay,” I mutter. “Thanks.”

“Well I’m not gonna do that now that I know you’ve never had an orgasm. I’ve got a moral obligation to keep helping _you _hump things.”

I blush harder and harder. This is so uncomfortable. I feel like a kid.

“Okay. Great.”

Ben clicks his tongue and suddenly grabs my jaw close to my throat. I stiffen and lie perfectly still because the force of it feels like he’s annoyed. Why’s he mad? We were just joking around.

He squeezes. “Say thank you, Rey.”

“Thanks—thank you—”

“I’m not used to only humping one person.” Ben’s fingers press into my throat and I get lightheaded. “So be a good girl and do whatever I say. Got it?”

“Yes. Yes. Sorry.”

His grip loosens, then drifts away, back to my stomach. I shiver.

“Great,” he murmurs. “Now go to sleep.”


	5. i just wanna break you down so badly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s a d
> 
> g a s l i g h t i n g

Pounding on the door wakes me up.

It takes a couple seconds: my hands are bound in front of me and I’m on my side, sleeping next to Ben in my bed. It’s not some weird dream.

He has a long arm slung across my waist and groans in my hair. I blink, finally able to see and speak. Last night really happened. I really got drunk and he came to my house and punished me—and he’s still here, and now Unkar is home. Yikes.

“GIRL!” shouts a familiar voice. Unkar. “OPEN THIS DOOR!”

Ben kisses the back of my head, sliding a hand up my waist, squeezing gently. I blink as he climbs over me to get out of bed, and redden when I see his messy black hair and bare chest. Jesus. He’s only wearing boxer briefs and I can see… things.

“You’re in _trouble_,” he sings. He smirks and scratches his head, yawning. “I’ve never been good at waking up early.”

Unkar keeps beating on the door. Ben yawns again and saunters to it, not at all concerned, and slowly pulls it open. My heart pounds. We’re in so much trouble. So much fucking trouble.

My foster dad stands there with his fist raised to knock again. He’s never cared about what I do and I’m not sure why he cares now. Still in his work uniform. He must’ve just gotten home from his shift.

“Who the _fuck _are you?!” Unkar spits.

Ben rubs the back of his neck. “Look man, I’m fucking exhausted—can you fuck off for a bit?”

“Are you some kind of pervert?! Did you break in here?!” Unkar peers around Ben’s shoulder at me and his face gets redder. “Why are her wrists—?!”

“C’mon, man. It’s early, I haven’t had a cigarette yet, and I’ve _really _gotta pee.”

“I’m calling the fucking cops. _Don’t _move.”

In the blink of an eye, Ben punches Unkar in the gut. Hard. It’s so fast I almost miss it.

Unkar grunts and sags, catching the doorframe for support, and Ben leans in a little closer. I stare with mixed shock and awe. He just punched someone.

“Rey and I are busy,” he whispers. He glances back at me, smiling, and winks. His jaw shifts like he’s chewing gum. “Aren’t we, baby?”

I nod. Yes. Definitely yes.

Ben turns back to Unkar, twisting his fist into his stomach. “So go have a beer, mind your own fucking business—and if you call the cops, I’ll make you fucking regret it.” He lowers his voice. “Got it?”

Unkar nods, groaning. Ben shoves him off as he steps into the hallway, closing my door behind him.

It’s quiet. I strain my ears until I hear Ben talking in a low voice again and the distinct sound of someone being shoved into a wall. Unkar mutters. A door opens and shuts, and footsteps carry on down the hall. Another door opens and shuts.

I can’t lie: I’m excited that he just punched Unkar. He’s not a mean foster dad but he doesn’t care at all, and he’s a slob, and I kind of hate him.

Rose is going to _die_. I turn to look at my phone on my dresser, twisting my wrists in the tape. I’ll text her later. Hopefully Ben isn’t done with me yet. Maybe we can go to his place.

My door opens. He comes in, hair in a tangle down to his shoulders, and he smiles down at me. He’s chewing gum.

“Wanna get up?” he asks.

I nod, silent.

Ben reaches over for his pants hung on the back of my desk chair. He flips out a pocket knife and I jump, startled. Okay. It’s just to cut the tape.

He laughs, throwing back my sheet and tearing the tape with one hard pull. I’m still in my pajamas with the stuffed animal down the front of them and it’s extremely embarrassing and extremely weird.

“Don’t worry,” he says, snapping his gum. He rips off the tape and flicks the knife closed. “I don’t do knife play with virgins.”

“Um… okay.”

I don’t want to know what knife play is. It sounds terrifying. 

I’m in a rush to not be so embarrassed and try pulling the stuffed animal out of my pants. Ben suddenly pushes his hand down on it, pinning me to the bed, and he raises his eyebrows. He’s looming over me. I stare up at him, meeting his dark eyes.

He rolls his hand. “You can go pee after you come.”

“…But—but—”

“Aw. Don’t be shy, Shorts.” Ben smiles and wraps his huge hand around the stuffed bunny. “You can use your fingers if you want.”

“I have to… use the bathroom,” I attempt, lamely.

“Uh huh. It feels better when you have to pee.”

Oof. My cheeks burn and I keep babbling about how I have to go first, and Ben gives me a rough shove onto my belly. He slaps my ass and I jump forward.

“Come on,” he cajoles. His fingers grab and push my hips forward. “I wanna watch you squirm around.”

My heart races. I shake my head, panting in my pillows as he gives me another hard push. This is so weird. I can’t do this. It’s too weird.

Before I can stop it, I’m crying.

Ben stops and groans, pulling me on my back with another harsh tug. He takes out the stuffed animal and climbs over me into my small bed, shuffling under the covers, wrapping his big arms around my middle. I cover my face. Oh my god this is _humiliating_.

He drags me to his chest. “Alright, relax. _Relax_.” Warm kisses pepper the top of my head. “What are you, a fucking Mormon?”

“Sorry—sorry—” I paw at his chest, panicked. “Please don’t—don’t go.”

“I won’t. Jesus.”

I’m fucking this up: crying, begging him not to go. Ben sighs and adjusts his long legs on my small bed. At least he’s staying. And he’s rubbing my back.

We’re quiet for a while. He skates his nails up and down my back, breathing in my hair, and I slow from sobbing to sniffles. It’s still in the house. Unkar’s TV is on full blast but otherwise, silence.

Ben traces one of my ribs with a fingertip. I shiver and bury my face in his neck.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” he murmurs. He traces two ribs. “But you’re just a kid—I don’t want to be a pedo.”

“I’m not. _You’re _not.”

He sighs. “I dunno. Stuff like this just reminds me that you _are _a kid, and I shouldn’t be doing this. It doesn’t feel right messing around with a little girl in her bed full of stuffed animals.”

Fear creeps over me. He’s going to break it off.

I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady. “But last night you said… all that stuff about…” It sticks in my throat. “Molesting—molesting me.”

“Mhm. But if you don’t like it…”

“I do! I do, really. I do. I don’t want you to feel bad. I like it. It feels good.”

His fingers drift to the hem of my pajama shorts, tugging lightly. He’s warm and strong and I don’t want him to go. He’s not a pedophile; that’s gross. I know what I’m doing and I _really _like him. A lot.

“Well you gotta learn how to be a good girl,” Ben whispers in my ear. His nails dig in, dragging over my thigh. “If you don’t like things, you just have to be a good girl and pretend you do.”

“…Okay. I’m sorry. I’ve never done this.”

My skin prickles where he touches. His fingers slide up under the leg of my pants and under the hem of my panties over my hips. He squeezes hard.

“I know.” Ben keeps kissing my hair and shifts closer. “I’ll show you stuff that feels good. You’ll like it after you try it a few times.”

I nod. I still really need to pee.

He slips away and rolls on his back, groaning, rubbing his face. I crawl out of bed and try not to stare at the really obvious bulge between his legs. Am I—do I do something about that? Or wait? Or…?

Ben lets his arms drop, staring at my ceiling. His tattoos are cool: black and red and blue. They curve up his ribs and around to his neck, down his forearm. One goes beneath the hem of his underwear. I stare and blink and look away. Don’t be creepy.

He glances back. “You changing?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna shower and get dressed.”

“Cool—gimme those panties you’re wearing when you’re done.” He stretches and cups his crotch, wincing. “Gettin’ blue balls.”

I nod and turn so fast I almost hit the door. He’s smirking when I turn around and hurry to find clothes, and I grab my phone. I race down the hall to the bathroom, blushing furiously.

No one bothers me. I scrub off, and shave my legs just to be safe, but don’t know what to do with my pubic hair. I’ve never shaved it. What if he thinks it’s gross?

I’m so horrified by the thought of that, that I try it—and find out pretty quick that it’s hard. I nick myself a bunch of times and hiss and use up all the hot water. It looks messy when I’m done. Shit.

But it’s done. It’s supposed to be cleaner, anyway.

I brush my teeth twice and rinse twice before walking back to my bedroom. For some reason I knock. It’s _my _bedroom.

Ben opens up, eyebrows raised. His shirt is back on, but he hasn’t gotten into his jeans yet.

“Panties,” he says, holding out his hand.

Oh, oops. I push them in his fist and he smiles as he opens the door all the way.

“I’ve just got to text Rose.” I make my bed as he shuts the door behind me. “She’s more excited about you than—uh… well. Not _excited_.”

“Don’t tell anyone about me.”

I look back. Ben isn’t smiling. He’s pulling on his jeans and buttoning them and giving me a irritated glare.

“Oh—sure. Sorry.”

“I’ll get in deep shit if someone tells the cops. Your dipshit foster dad shouldn’t be a problem, but some teenage girl might get all… emotional.”

“You’re right. I didn’t even think of that.”

The annoyance fades as fast as it appeared. He smiles, chewing his gum, watching me before I turn to finish making my bed. Don’t tell Rose. Got it. She might tell her mom if she thinks I’m in trouble or Ben is bad. I mean, not the _good _bad.

He sticks my panties in his back pocket. “Alright, come on. We’ll get breakfast and go back to my place.”

_Score_.

Unkar doesn’t say anything when we leave. Ben spits out his gum and smacks a pack of Marlboro’s on his palm, squinting as he looks around at the trees. It’s chilly like summer mornings are sometimes.

He lights up. “You wanna stay with me for a while? Week or whatever. See if you like it.”

“Yeah, sure. I just need my laptop and stuff.” I wring my hands as we come up to his car, nervous. “I have some money but most of it goes to groceries—”

Ben snorts and bursts out laughing. He opens his door and I hurriedly open mine. I’m sixteen; I’m not exactly loaded, and I have to eat.

We settle in our seats and Ben starts the engine. He shakes his head, still laughing under his breath, dashing ashes out his window. I roll my window down and click my seatbelt.

He holds his cigarette in his lips. “That fat fuck can starve. It’ll be good for him.” His dark eyes flicker to me as he shifts gears and gets a smug smile. “You can always suck my dick to earn your keep.”

“Wh—?!” I blurt. “But—”

“Oh my god, I’m _kidding_.” The Mustang jolts forward, kicking up gravel. “Don’t worry about it, babe. I’m not going to let you starve, _or _make you blow me. Not yet, anyway.”

Okay. Phew.

• • •

Breakfast is good—some diner on the edge of town. I’m really uncomfortable not paying for myself but Ben grabs my wrist and tells me to cut it out.

The waitress smiles at him and he smiles back, chewing his gum, and he turns to watch her go. I pick at my food and pretend not to notice. I’m not jealous. He’s not my boyfriend, so…

I clear my throat. “So, it’s okay if I see other people?”

He slowly turns back to look at me. He’s not smiling. His jaw shifts from side to side. 

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Who are you going to see?”

“…I don’t know. People.”

“Do these people exist?”

“Well, I haven’t met anyone, but I just want to know. Poe Dameron likes me.”

His expression goes blank. He has an arm slung across the back of his booth and starts tapping his fingers together. I keep eating and pretend not to notice. Good, serves him right for looking at other girls.

Ben heaves a long breath through his nose, jaw clenched tight. He’s staring at me.

“Y’know…”

He leans over the table and grabs my jaw in one big hand, yanking hard to pull me over the edge. We’re in a back corner so no one can see.

I hyperventilate. He’s mad again, but it’s only given away by how blank his dark eyes are. Shit. How do I keep making him mad like this? What’s wrong with me? Why am I such an idiot?

“This trying to make me jealous shit is fucking _irritating_,” he snaps. He pulls, digging my stomach into the edge of the table. “It’s so fucking high school. If you go fuck around with Poe Dameron, I’ll beat the shit out of him. How’s that? Is that what you want?”

It’s hard, but I shake my head fast. No. _No_.

Ben shoves me back in my seat and leans back in his, rolling his eyes. He taps his fingers on the table and rubs his mouth.

I’m trying not to cry. I feel so stupid. My hands shake a little while I spear my omelette, throat tight, and my lower lip quivers. Oh my god, don’t cry. He’s going to be even more pissed if I start crying. He bought this food for me; I can’t waste it.

He groans. “Come on. Don’t cry.” Ben looks over his shoulder at the blonde waitress. “Girls look at me, I look back. I’m not going to go fuck her in the kitchen.” He pauses and huffs, annoyed. “I already told you I won’t screw around with anyone else.”

I nod and keep eating because I’ll cry if I talk. I’m such a crier. I want to tell Rose.

Ben slips into my booth and puts an arm around my waist. He kisses my temple, prodding my glass of water with his knuckle, lowering his voice.

“You want a milkshake?” he murmurs. “You don’t have to drink water all the time, Shorts.”

I shake my head. He cajoles and coos and I give in, so the waitress brings me a chocolate one. I’ve had one once before on my seventh birthday.

This time he doesn’t smile at her. He brushes my thigh with his fingertips and rests his cheek on the side of my head. I sip the shake slowly, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as I can. This is nice. It’s kind of like a date, and it seems like he’s sorry.

Ben nuzzles my hair. “I really will kick the shit out of Poe Dameron if you want me to. I’ve been fucking jonesing for that.”

“Well—maybe not.” I laugh a little. “But Unkar definitely deserved a punch.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen his ass around. Always buying up cheap weed.” Ben snorts, flexing his hand on the table. “He knows better than to fuck with me. I’ll come deck him whenever you want.”

That’s satisfying on some level. Protection? Maybe because he’s like a guard dog I can sic on people.

Ben pays the bill and I leave a 25% tip because I feel bad for being jealous. She’s nice. Waitresses work hard and all my food was really good.

Back in the Mustang, he takes a phone call. He hangs up in the middle of it and tosses his phone into the cup holder. Busy. Usually I only talk to Rose or one of the people I’ve met online, but I worry I’m being clingy. Better to give people space.

He heaves a sigh. “Work is so hard, Rey. Never work.”

“I won’t if I win the lottery.”

It’s a warm summer morning, still hazy from dawn, and Ben’s black hair reflects the sunlight. He smiles at me in this way that feels condescending and should annoy me but I love the attention. His dark eyes wander down my capris and back up to my face.

“Man.” He shakes his head and looks away, key in the ignition. He laughs. “Where have you been all my life, Shorts?”

“Just… hangin’ around,” I reply, shrugging, smiling.

Ben leans over the console and kisses me, cupping my cheek in a rough palm. I jump on it and kiss him back—I’ve only looked online a couple times—and his tongue slips in my mouth. He groans and grabs the back of my neck, hand on the steering wheel. My head spins. I want to crawl into his lap.

He tugs. Our mouths break with a wet pop, but he keeps his grip on my nape. He licks his lips, dark eyes intent on mine, searching.

“Yeah,” he says after a minute. He kisses my forehead and slides into his seat, squinting out the windshield. “Just hangin’ around.”


	6. you are red, violent red."

The porch next to Ben’s is empty when we get to his apartment. I’m kind of disappointed because I wanted his neighbor to see me coming back over again. We’re _together. _I want everyone to know.

He carries my stuff upstairs—now my laptop and a duffel bag with clothes after a stop back to the trailer. I follow, wringing my hands, trying not to panic. He said it’s just for a week to see if I like it. If I don’t then I can always go back home.

Ben whistles away as he unlocks his door. His whistle goes up a note when it swings open and he motions for me to walk in first. He smiles as I walk past.

The same vague scent of weed and Lysol hangs in the air but I figure I’ll get used to it. Ben shuts and locks the door behind us, tapping my lower back to lead me through the living room. I shuffle behind him to the bedroom, sheets sort of made, things organized.

It’s nice and cool from the air conditioning. I shiver, watching Ben drop my duffel bag on the big bed.

“I’m out sometimes,” he says. “Selling, meeting people. Got shit to do.” He unzips the bag and paws through until he finds where my panties are stashed. “You can hang out and watch TV or whatever—go out for a walk. Just don’t let anybody in here.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Not even that friend of yours. Rose. Don’t let her in here or I’ll be fucking pissed.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Ben smiles at me over his shoulder. He opens his dresser drawer and stuffs my panties inside. I’m not sure why. I’ll need them sooner or later.

“Good girl,” he says. “Let’s go watch TV.”

We sit on the couch out in the living room and he turns on the television to _South Park_. Sunlight filters through the blinds and across the beige carpet, which I’m hoping he’ll let me vacuum, and he settles a green blanket over us. I press closer under his arm and rest my head on his chest, eyes closed.

It’s quiet. Ben scrolls around on his phone and texts a couple girls about weed I think. He puts his feet up on the coffee table and chews his gum slowly, and I can hear his heart beating under my ear. Steady. Slow.

“What size are you?” he asks.

“Uh… small? Medium sometimes. I’m a four in jeans.” I hesitate, looking up at him. “Why? Is that too big?”

“…No?” He laughs and shakes his head. I’m an idiot. “You’re, what, five feet five inches?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, it’s not like you’re five hundred pounds and four feet tall. Chill out. Don’t start starving yourself or puking or something.”

I nod, settling back under his chin, curling my legs up on the couch. Okay. I’m fine. I’ve always been on the side of skinny from not being able to eat much. I should eat more.

Ben almost seems to hear me. His arm slides around my ribs and he gently pinches my stomach. There’s not a lot of fat there and I wince.

“Yeah, you’re skinny as hell,” he says. He pats my belly and smooths his hand over my thigh. “No big deal. I’m pretty equal opportunity with who I fuck, I’m just asking for the lingerie.”

I blink. “The—the what?”

He laughs again, and I see he’s scrolling through an app with some _extremely _revealing getups. None of it is cheap and it makes the poor trailer girl in me _extremely _anxious. Do I have to buy stuff?

“You can’t get anything over like… an eight from Victoria’s Secret,” he says, “and I’m not fucking you in the day of the week panties.” He clicks one outfit that looks more like a torture device than lingerie. “Not that I’m fucking you any time soon—but I like to look.”

“You don’t have to do that. Really.”

“I know.” Ben closes the app and opens another one called Frederick’s. “I just want to.”

We watch a couple episodes of _South Park _like that, him shopping much more than I thought he would. I glance up at him but don’t move. It’s a compliment. If he’s spending that much money it means he wants me to stick around.

But it’s a lot of pressure I wasn’t expecting. He’s spending a lot of money, so he’s going to expect me to wear all of it, even if I don’t want to. Some things are so outlandish and revealing that I can’t imagine wearing them without dying of embarrassment. I have to figure out how to. Somehow.

Ben’s hand drifts up under my shirt and cups my boob. I think he’s going to ask about the size but he just palms it instead, still distracted by his phone.

Heat creeps into my cheeks as he idly strokes my nipple through my thin bra. It feels nice. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to touch him or if that’s not allowed. I don’t want him to get in trouble—not that I’ll tell anyone.

He tosses the phone aside and roughly dips his hand in my bra. I rub my thighs together as he cups my breast in his bare hand, rubbing his middle fingertip in a gentle circle around my nipple. His other hand moves beneath the blanket. I watch the way it moves and squirm at the sound of his belt.

“Gotta go out soon,” he mutters. He holds his palm out to me. “Spit.”

I spit, awkwardly. He tells me to spit more.

Ben’s hand goes under the blanket again. He settles back with his feet on the floor and plays with my breast, cheek resting on the side of my head. Rhythmic ruffles leave nothing to the imagination: he’s jerking off.

I’m not sure what to say, so I say nothing at all. He groans in a way that makes my heart skip a beat and pinches my nipple once or twice. It’s not hard or painful. I’m mesmerized by what I’m seeing and tune out the sound of the television for the soft curses and wet slapping coming from Ben, and listen to his heart beating faster and faster.

He kisses the top of my head, panting into my hair. His hips roll and the sight and sounds do strange things to me.

“Stay here,” he breathes. He grabs my throat and squeezes hard. “Don’t fucking go anywhere. Stay here until I get back.”

I nod quickly but Ben doesn’t let go or gently play with my boob again. He keeps tightening his grip until I’m lightheaded, whimpering, nails digging into his stomach. A damp knuckle brushes the side of my hand.

He groans. “You’re so fucking hot. C’mere.”

Long fingers grasp my wrist and pull my hand down to his crotch. Warm, soft skin brushes my palm as Ben closes my fingers around his dick, holding firmly, not letting me pull away. It’s thick and hard—I squeeze experimentally and he gives my throat a tighter squeeze, too. I’ve never felt anything like it.

I’m horribly nervous but excited at the same time. He’s practically strangling me and my ears are ringing, but I’m still excited. It’s hot. I’ve never seen a dick, let alone touched one, and I’m getting Ben off, and he _likes _me.

“You like that?” he asks, voice low like someone might hear. I manage a nod and he sighs. “That’s my good girl. And we won’t tell anybody, will we?”

I nod faster. He hums in agreement and tickles my wrist with his pinky, drawing a nervous shiver from me. It’s so possessive. It’s like he’s drawing me in to the moment with him and I can’t help but love it.

“No, we won’t,” he whispers. His breath hitches. He works our hands faster along the shaft, panting in my ear, trembling—he’s really going to come. “Our little secret, babe—our little secret.”

His cock throbs and warm, sticky cum dribbles down over our knuckles. Ben holds me closer and huffs and kisses my head while he tightens and gently works our hands along the shaft, milking his twitching cock. He shudders and I stare at the shifting blanket, curious to see how it looks when he comes. Does it leak out? Does it _squirt _out?

Ben’s head falls back. He heaves a relieved sigh, throat bobbing, laughing then as he guides my hand away. I smile because he’s smiling.

“Fuuuuck.” He rubs his face and grabs my jaw to pull me in for a quick kiss. “Haven’t come that hard from a handjob… ever. You did good—great.” He runs his hand over my head, fingers curling at the nape of my neck, and he pushes me in to kiss my forehead. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Good. I’m glad I did it right.”

He raises his eyebrows and bursts out laughing. I’m worried for a second but he starts nodding and smiling as his head comes to rest on the back of the couch again. It’s that weird way he agrees with me sometimes.

“Oh yeah—you definitely did it right,” he says. “Bet I’ll fucking pass out when you blow me. See God.” Ben shivers and keeps laughing. He rubs his face again. “‘I’m glad I did it right.’ Jesus, Shorts. Jesus.”

“Well, I didn’t know!” I snap.

“I know, babe, I know. I’ll give you all the affirmation you want if you keep making me come that hard.”

I’m sent off to the bathroom first to wash my hands. Ben’s cum is thick and white, kind of opaque, and I curiously web it between my fingers for a minute. It’s tacky. Sticky. I’m not really interested in tasting it yet but it’s cool having evidence of him on me. One step closer to being what he wants me to be.

He’s changed into basketball shorts and has his hands washed when I come out of the bathroom. He grabs me in the hall and growls and squeezes, swinging me around until I squeal and laugh. We stumble toward the living room, me still laughing and squirming while he growls and kisses my neck. His strong hands are all over me, tickling, and I deliberately push my butt into his groin.

Ben wraps an arm around my middle. “Are you trying to _tease _me, Shorts?”

“No,” I giggle, still writhing. “No way.”

“I’ll allow it.” He grabs my hip bones, holding me firm, and nips my earlobe. “But be careful what you wish for.”

I chew inside my cheek. Maybe he doesn’t get it.

“I want to,” I blurt. “I… I want to do it.”

Ben fans a big hand on my stomach and whispers in my ear. “I know. Doesn’t mean you’re ready to do it.”

“But—But I am ready. It’s not big deal.”

“Yeah, right.” He laughs and kisses my temple before he slips away. He’s shaking his head. “Maybe if you can get off without crying we’ll revisit sex.”

“I’m not a kid. I want to do it.”

“Don’t care. I’m not fucking you and dealing with all the crying and whining and shit after. Hate that melodramatic crap.”

I grit my teeth, glaring at the back of his head. He’s putting his wallet in his pocket and checking his phone, and I just know it’s another girl. I’m not going to risk being replaced by another girl.

I stomp my foot. Ben looks over his shoulder as I cross my arms over my chest, trying my best to look serious, and adult-ish. I’m an adult. If I want to have sex, I’m going to get it, and he isn’t going to tell me anything different.

“I want to,” I repeat. My voice falters. “I’ll be fine.”

“Awful ballsy for a girl who doesn’t know how to masturbate.” Ben’s eyebrows raise, condescending. “And has come… twice. Ever.”

“So? What’s the difference?”

He cocks his head and a smug smile replaces the irritation. I don’t step back when he saunters up to me but my cheeks burn the closer he gets, until he’s looming over me. He keeps smiling. My bravery wilts under his shadow.

“Okay,” Ben murmurs. He taps my nose. “I’ll fuck you. Just get down on your knees and suck my cock first.” He taps again. “No spitting, and you have to take _all of it_.”

“…Well—”

His lips dip to my ear, voice low, husky. “I’m more of a skullfucking kind of guy, too—so you might throw up if you have a strong gag reflex.” His fingers creep around my throat again and I stiffen. “But that’s part of it for me. I like watching pretty girls choke on my cock.”

Throwing up? I don’t want to throw up. There’s nothing at all appealing about gagging or choking on his dick.

I swallow. “Can’t we skip that part?”

“Oh no. I _never _skip that part.” Ben kisses my cheek, slowly strangling me, and I just close my eyes. “If you don’t want to wait, I’ll fuck you the same way I fuck every other woman, Shorts: and I never skip my favorite parts.”

“Okay,” I squeak, “I’ll wait.”

“Yeah? You want to wait now?”

I nod. I’m not sucking his dick. That’s the last thing I want to do; I’d rather not do it at all if I can avoid it. If I have to for sex, then… I can wait.

Ben’s hand tightens around my throat until I choke. He breathes on my ear, listening to me cough and ignoring my fingers scrabbling at his shirt, and blackness comes in the edges of my eyes. All I can think of is how much of a moron I am for questioning him and making him mad.

He takes a steadying breath but his voice is still low and angry.

“I don’t mind the teasing,” he whispers, “and I don’t mind you being curious. It’s cute. Hot.”

Ben turns, shoving me into a wall so hard that the TV rattles. His dark eyes search mine and he raises his eyebrows. “But if you keep trying to manipulate me—you’re going to get all that rough sex you don’t want. Do you understand, Rey?” He presses his forehead against mine, speaking softly. “I’m going to hurt you if you try to manipulate me again.”

I can’t nod fast enough. Yes. Yes, I understand.

He kisses me, gentle, slow, then throws me to the floor. Blood comes rushing back to my head and I gasp and cough and roll. Holy _shit_.

I’m only left a moment before Ben grabs my arm. He drags me into his bedroom and shoves me over the edge of the bed, where I turn on my back and meet his cold dark eyes. I freeze, trembling, and stare. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You already made him angry.

His hands are on either side of my head. His gaze shifts, studying my face, before he leans in to press a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Don’t make me hurt you, baby,” he mumbles, lips against my skin. “Okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I shake my head and cry even though I shouldn’t. “I’m so sorry—I’m sorry I’m crying.”

Ben kisses down my temple, murmuring. “Shh… shh… it’s okay. Don’t cry.” He lowers a little to his forearms and his mouth moves down my jaw. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t want to hurt you, and you’re such a good girl.” His nose nuzzles into my neck, like he’s searching for a hug, but my shaking hands are grabbing the front of his shirt. “I know you’re just excited. I’ll bring back something nice for you, okay?”

All I can do is nod. Okay. That would be nice.

He keeps kissing my neck for a minute before he withdraws. I smile a little when he takes my hands and kisses my wrists. Ben sighs and leans forward again, cupping my face in both hands to kiss my lips. I kiss him back and his tongue slips in my mouth.

But it doesn’t last long. He huffs, frustrated, and leaves with a muttered apology.

“I’ll be back. Stay here. Watch TV.”

Then he’s gone. The apartment gets very quiet and I sniffle to myself, turning on the television.

Oh good. I smile as I curl up in the pillows. _South Park _is still on.


	7. i’m gonna make damn sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of the worst Bens I’ve ever written lmfao

No texting Rose. No matter how much I want to, there’s _no texting Rose_.

It’s hard resisting the urge to spill all the lurid details to my best friend, like touching a real dick and seeing cum on my hands, but I think about Ben’s irritated face and wish no more. I’m not a kid. This is normal stuff and I need to be cool about it.

Gushing to my friend about how weird dicks feel is definitely something a kid would do.

I’m left alone most of the day, curled up in Ben’s bed, afraid to get up even to use the bathroom. _South Park _keeps me occupied before it rolls into reruns of _Robot Chicken_ and I keep my ears perked for the sound of the front door. I’d make something for dinner but I don’t want to go invading his space.

But the bed is comfy and the AC runs cold. I can wait. He’ll be happy if I wait.

Around nightfall I hear a key crunch in the lock. I resist the urge to run and greet him, opting instead to stay sitting where I am in the middle of his bed. He’s home. He said he’d bring me something.

The bedroom door opens and Ben saunters in, bursting out laughing when he lays eyes on me. I smile and watch him toss his keys on the desk. He smells a little like alcohol and his eyes are hooded, but I’m not worried. I did what he asked and stayed put. He’ll be happy.

“How’d it go?” I ask.

“You move at all?” I shake my head and he laughs again, shaking his head. “Well, shit. You could’ve gotten up, babe. Not holding you prisoner.”

I shrug, reddening. “Sorry.”

Ben rubs his nose and laughs more at my apology. He goes down the hall to the bathroom and comes back without his shirt on. My heart skips a beat. Are we going to have sex? Is that what he wants?

He motions toward me. “Scoot over. Tired.”

Relief floods me. I move as quick as I can and look away while Ben takes off his pants. He climbs into bed under the sheets and wordlessly drags me to his chest, wrapping his arms around my middle in a big hug. He squeezes, yawning into my hair.

“I’ll give you your present tomorrow,” he mumbles.

“Oh—okay. Thank you.” I nod, staring at the wall, afraid to move. “Thanks.”

“‘Mm.”

We fall into silence. It’s about bed time anyway so I settle in and close my eyes, excited to be sleeping next to a boy again. What if I wake up and my breath smells? Will he stop liking me?

He’s warm and big and feels safe. I just have to not annoy him. Maybe I’ll get up early and brush my teeth. Maybe I’ll brush my teeth right now.

I wriggle, testing the bounds of his arms. Ben doesn’t respond at first but he tightens his embrace when I try to get up. He whispers in my ear, voice low.

“Where d’you think you’re going?”

“I wanted to brush my teeth.” I shrink against his chest, cowed by getting caught. “Sorry.”

No answer, and he doesn’t loosen his arms. I figure that’s as far as I want to push him and close my eyes again. I’m not going to make him mad. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.

It’s still dark when I wake to his hand up my shirt. My bra is unhooked and dangling over his knuckles, and he’s cupping my boob in one big hand, circling my nipple with his thumb. I swallow nervously and squirm so he knows I’m awake, pressing my butt into his groin. He’s hard.

Ben groans into my hair. It’s a soft, hungry sound deep in his chest that sends a shiver down my spine.

I roll my hips a little, rubbing against his dick straining through his sweatpants. His hand slides down my ribs to my hips and helps move me the way he wants, in short, tight circles. It’s kind of hot. I feel like a temptress and kind of dangerous.

“What’re you doing?” Ben mumbles. “You teasing me?”

“No—no.” I shake my head, stopping dead out of fear that he’s mad at me. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know I was awake. Since… you know.”

He kisses the side of my head, gently guiding me to my back under the warm sheets. My heart races but I open my legs to let him between them, and then his weight is pinning me and he’s moving his hips. He’s humping me. I swallow and settle my trembling hands on his back, squirming. Holy shit.

Sheets rustle. Ben breathes evenly in my ear, rubbing in the right spot, only some scraps of fabric between us. We _could _have sex. If we wanted to.

“Sometimes I might want you when you’re asleep,” he whispers. His thrusts are slow and languid, like he’s not in a rush even though I’m squirming around. “Just one of those things that happens. You can just lie there nice and still for me, okay?”

I nod, reddening. What he’s doing feels good and I don’t want to ruin it by saying something stupid. I should stop moving.

So I do. Ben kisses my neck and keeps going, and I can feel the hard heat of his cock through his pants. It’s big. I already knew that but having it so close to my vagina is a little nerve-wracking.

He laughs a little. “Baby, you can move. Wanna get on top?”

I shake my head. Nope. I’ll do it wrong.

But he just laughs and rolls over on his back, pulling me with him so I’m straddling his hips. I bury my face in his neck out of sheer embarrassment and he grabs my ass in both big hands. Sharp slap.

“Show me how grown up you are.” He slaps my ass again and squeezes. “Don’t be shy.”

Disappointing Ben is the _last _thing I want to do. I keep my face hidden but roll my hips in time with his hands, rubbing along the length of his cock. My toes curl when he groans and squeezes my ass. I get another slap and squeak in surprise.

“Good girl,” he rumbles in a deep tone.

He moves a little bit but mostly leaves me to my squirming and whimpering. There are soft sounds I can’t stop as the tension builds and my common sense flies out the window: it feels _good_, and I want more. He told me I can’t have more.

But it would be so good having something inside me. Muscles flutter like they want to grip and even though I come, gasping and biting the pillow, I know it’s going to feel even better when I’m not… empty.

Ben rubs my back while I catch my breath. I’m trembling and drowsy and relieved, and I don’t mind when he turns me over on my back again. Orgasms feel _amazing_—I don’t think I’ll mind if he does that to me while I’m asleep.

He gets to his knees and snaps his fingers. “Shirt off.”

I don’t move fast enough and he rips it off himself, baring my chest in the dark bedroom. My arms automatically cross to cover up but Ben pries them apart, pinning them to my sides with a forceful squeeze. It takes a second for me to realize I made a mistake and he might be mad.

He straddles my hips instead, cupping my breasts in both hands, kneading gently. I swallow a lump and try to relax under the soft touch and pleasurable tingle from his thumbs circling my nipples. My boobs feel especially tiny in his palms.

“Beautiful,” Ben says, more to himself than me. He pushes down his sweatpants and I glimpse his cock before he’s stroking it, breath hitching. “Nice and still. I’m gonna come all over your tits.”

I don’t move a muscle. I barely blink, staring at the hypnotic way Ben’s fist moves. I wish I could see better but I can only hear his groans mingled with wet slaps, skin stroking skin, and sometimes he grunts a curse. A hand seizes me around the throat before long and _squeezes_, leaving me gasping.

He likes choking, I guess. I’m okay with it until my ears ring and my head burns.

“You like this?” Ben asks, breathless. Something wet prods my nipple and I shiver. “Gonna come all over these tits. That what you want?” I nod as fast as I can with his hand around my throat and he groans. “Oh fuck—_fuck_—”

Sticky wetness splashes on my chest. It’s warm and feels thick on my nipple but Ben’s gasping draws me in even more and makes my toes curl. He’s coming like he did yesterday, this time on my boobs, though I don’t get why he’d want to do that.

Cum splashes up my neck to my chin and I squeal, a little distressed by how close it is to my mouth. Ben’s hand slips away from my throat as his breathing slows, drifting into a long, satisfied sigh. I think there’s a lot of it on me—it’s already drying.

I catch my breath and smile when I hear him laugh. A fingertip teases my nipple once more, now all tacky from cum. It’s hot. I’m covered in him.

“God you have great tits.” Something fumbles on the nightstand. “Look at me.”

There’s nothing to see in the dark. A sudden flash of light makes it impossible to see much of anything and I blink hard, realizing Ben took my picture. Uh…

“Did you take my picture?” I ask, raspy.

“Yeah.” His clothes rustle, maybe him getting adjusted. “Why?”

“Well… you won’t show anyone, right?”

Ben laughs. He gets up out of bed and I see him in a beam of moonlight, smirking at me from his desk. He opens a glass bowl filled with pills and takes two.

“What d’you think?” he asks. He opens another container filled with what look like brown cigarettes and puts one behind his ear.

“I… I don’t know.”

More stuff shuffles around. Ben leaves the bedroom and comes back with his hands washed and the cigarette lit, which judging by the smell I guess is a blunt. He picks up a shirt off the floor and offers the blunt to me as he wipes my chest.

I shake my head. I’m okay. I really want to know what he’s going to do with the picture of me.

But he cleans me off, tosses the shirt back on the floor, and still doesn’t answer. I watch him wander to the desk again and reach down for my own shirt. 

“I didn’t tell you to get dressed.”

I glance up. Ben is rifling through his pills and doesn’t look at me.

My pulse quickens. “But… aren’t we done?”

He finds a yellow pill and closes the container. I fold my arms over my chest and shake my head when he offers me the pill, not at all interested in doing _that. _

Ben exhales smoke toward the door. “I’m not asking.”

“But I’ve never—”

“It’s gonna help you relax. You’re so wound up right now and it’s annoying.”

Wound up? I chew my lower lip as I take the pill and examine it. I only asked him one question, but I don’t want to annoy him. Maybe it’s hard to tell when you’re on the inside looking out.

Long fingers close around my nape, squeezing. Grey smoke drifts across the bed.

“_Now_, Shorts.”

“Please, I’ve never taken any drugs,” I blurt. “I don’t even know what this is—what if I’m allergic?”

“It’s Tylenol. Take it.”

“Ben, please, I—”

In a split second he throws me to the floor. I roll a couple feet, stunned, and only whimper when he crosses the room. Ben takes a long drag of his blunt, eyes narrowed and glaring down at me cowering on the floor at his feet.

I cry. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—”

“You’ve got problems, Rey.” Smoke curls from his mouth and nose while he talks. “I’m trying to help and you’re being a real bitch about it.”

“I’m sorry…” I curl into a ball, sobbing. “Please don’t make me leave.”

“Take the medicine and go to bed, and we’ll see how I feel in the morning.”

He’s right. I’m not worth the effort.

I nod, still crying as I sit up and swallow the pill he offers. Ben brushes a hand through my hair and rolls his eyes while I cry against his thigh, apologizing up and down. This should’ve been a nice night and I ruined it like I ruin everything.

He brings me back to bed and helps me under the covers. I take off my bottoms so I’m just sleeping in my panties, and this time I don’t hesitate when he tells me what to do.

“Relax,” he snaps, climbing under the blankets with me. I’m struggling to get a grip and failing miserably. “You’re so fucking uptight—just _relax_. Stop trying my fucking patience and being so melodramatic.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just shut up and go to sleep.”

At first that seems impossible, but a couple minutes after taking the pill I feel a subtle change. My eyes droop as the subtle change quickly spreads, turning my limbs to lead, blanketing my brain in a sleepy haze. Fear fades. Now I’m just tired.

Ben heaves a relieved sigh. “_Finally_. Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

I nod once, slowly. It does. Feels like I ran a marathon and now I’m taking a nap in the sun.

His big arm loops over my waist, nudging aside my slackened arms. My eyes flutter shut when Ben cups my breast like he did earlier when I woke up. Feels nice. I get a tingle between my legs when his thumb teases my nipple in gentle circles.

“Much better.” He kisses my temple and settles behind me. “Should sleep through the night now.”

I like what he’s doing, but I’m too sleepy to stay awake. I doze off with him still groping me.


	8. that you can’t ever leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben getting blitzed and Rey being too afraid to refuse fits their characters in this fic better than a slow burn so here we are

The sun is up when I wake, and I’m dizzy, disoriented, and a little nauseous.

It smells like breakfast, something I’m not used to. I blink and squirm under the sheets, groaning. Bacon? Yum. Been a while since I had real breakfast—Unkar never has money for it and I usually don’t have time to sit around cooking. Only had it when Ben brought me out the other day.

My head pounds as I sit up in his messy, unfamiliar bed. I feel like I got hit by a freight train. Whatever he gave me to help me sleep _really _did the trick. I hope he isn’t going to make me leave. Please don’t make me leave. Did I bother him more last night?

I should go check.

Trembling, I carefully get out of bed, bra still unhooked in the back and pajamas askew. That’s okay. No big deal. I have to be willing to let these things happen.

It’s quiet in the apartment but soon I hear the hissing and spitting of bacon cooking, and Ben whistling, and my heart gives a nervous skip. He sounds like he’s in a good mood. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain last night. I hope I can stay.

I find him standing in the cramped kitchen over the stove, black hair tied back, wearing a sleeveless jersey and mismatched sweatpants. He smiles at the sight of me and I smile back. Okay. Seems like I’m good.

“How’d you like the Valium?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh… good. Good.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I slept great after I took it.”

“See? You can trust me.” His smile widens and he licks grease off his fingertips. I stare. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Yeah. He’s right.

But something seems… off. I notice Ben has already made a whole pile of bacon and has another package open and ready to be cooked, even though it’s just the two of us. He’s sweating a little, and there’s an open can of beer on the table. Early for beer.

He eyes me for another minute, then clicks his tongue. “Y’know—I’ve been thinking.” He turns off the stovetop and shrugs, casually throwing out the bacon. “You’re gonna cry when I fuck you no matter what. You’re a crier. So how about I fuck you right now?”

Right… _now_? The other day he wanted to wait. He wants to just… do it now?

I’m not sure I’m ready, and I’m also not sure how to say that. I stare at him and he bursts out laughing.

“Come on, babe.” He snaps his fingers and points to the hall. “Let’s go shower and stuff. Have breakfast. Then we can talk about it.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay.” I nod, relieved. “That’s good.”

Ben peels off his shirt before we get to the bathroom. He opens the door and I awkwardly shuffle inside, taking note of the pills scattered on the counter and white powder residue in the sink. The door shuts.

I start to turn. “Maybe I’ll just wait—”

He grabs me around the waist and is kissing me, hard, hard enough that it draws blood. I recoil but he yanks me against his hard body and then I don’t want to go anywhere. This is fine. I can trust him. He’s taking good care of me so far, and he’s better than Unkar.

We stumble into the counter. Ben takes my face in both hands, deepening the kiss with a guttural groan, and I feel him getting hard against my stomach. He impatiently tugs off my shirt and I don’t resist, too excited and exhilarated to even imagine telling him no. It’s going to work out fine. Sex is fun.

“I’m gonna fuck you in the shower first,” he mumbles, kissing a trail down my neck. He gropes at my chest. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll fuck you on the couch after.”

Okay. I nod, even though this isn’t at all how I imagined this would happen.

Maybe it shouldn’t. I swallow a nervous lump as Ben bites my neck, sucking, hands wandering down to the string on my pants. I think I want it to be in a bed, and I’m pretty sure he’s high. If we could both be sober, that would be nice, too.

“Ben?” I mumble.

“Hm?”

“Um… could we maybe… wait? Just a little bit.”

Ben stops cold. He draws back to look me in the eyes, obviously high out of his mind from the glazed expression in his own, and I launch into my reasoning. Just a little while, so I can shower and shave and we can eat. And maybe do it in the bed.

He stares. “What did I tell you about teasing me, Rey? Do you remember?”

“I’m not trying to do that,” I say quickly. “I want to, but if I could have a few minutes…?”

“I’m ready now. It hurts if I don’t get off.”

“Well—I mean, it’s only like fifteen minutes. It’s just my first time and it would be great if—”

A big hand seizes my hair. Ben casually drags me from the bathroom, squeaking and apologizing all the way, and we don’t quite make it to his bedroom.

He shoves me over the arm of the couch, pulling down my pants, then leaning forward. I suck in frightened rapid breaths and wince at the warmth of his thighs against the back of mine, too intimate and foreign and terrifying. Isn’t he going to use a—

“_Don’t_…” Something stiff prods between my legs. I squirm, pawing at the cushions, and burst into tears. “Please—?”

“It’s okay,” he breathes. “Just relax, baby.”

But I can’t. Like a knife, Ben stabs into me anyway, and I muffle my whimpers into the couch, afraid of upsetting him. He digs his fingers into my hips and yanks me into his groin and I try not to let the fear and pain overwhelm me. I shouldn’t have teased him. I shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed.

It’s over faster than I thought. He grunts and pounds into me, and I feel odd twitching and warmth, then he slaps my ass and laughs. I’m dizzy and confused and wish it had lasted longer so I had a better memory of it—but it’s done. Ben slips from my body before I’m even used to how he feels.

“_Fuck_, you’re tight.” He slaps my ass again and I flinch. “C’mon, let’s go eat.”

I don’t think I can move. Pain lances down my thighs and soon Ben‘s cum does, too, running in thick rivulets along trembling skin. It’s pinkish. Maybe there’s some blood mixed in.

Dazed, I lean down to pull up my pants. “Can—Can I stay? Do I have to leave?”

“Yeah, yeah; you can stay. Really proud of you, Shorts. Stayed nice and quiet.”

“I tried,” I bleat.

He fixes his pants and pouts his lower lip. Ben leans over to kiss my forehead and I arch on my tiptoes to get closer, fighting the emotions churning in my gut. Don’t cry. It’s okay. Just don’t cry.

“I know,” he murmurs. An arm slides around my waist and guides me toward the kitchen. “Growin’ up right before my eyes. I’ll give you your present after breakfast. How’s that?”

I brighten. “Yeah! I mean, that would be great.”

“Good. You’re gonna love it, Shorts.”

Ben smiles again, crooked, and kisses my temple as we walk out for breakfast. A new ache settles between my legs and somewhere deep in my chest, and I can’t decide which spot hurts more: but I figure it’s better than feeling nothing at all.


End file.
